


Dial Tones

by daggertattoos



Series: Begin Again [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Angst, Gallavich, M/M, and mickey actually told ian to leave in 5x05, lets just pretend mandy didn't go to indiana, season 5, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3512885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daggertattoos/pseuds/daggertattoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Came to talk to you.”</p><p>“We're not good at talking. We try to talk, then we fight and we fuck, then we fight again and we fuck again, and on and on and on.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dial Tones

**Author's Note:**

> Second part! Just a reminder, this is NOT related to the first part at all. They're separate works so its not necessary to read the first one, but I'd love it if you did!
> 
> P/S: sorry if there are small mistakes I didn't notice
> 
> (Title & a few lines from Dial Tones by As It Is, great song!)

The sound of a phone ringing wakes Mandy up from her slumber and if the damn thing wasn't so close to her, she wouldn't have bothered getting up, but she does and a quick glance at the caller ID makes her frown. She doesn't have to look at him to know that he's staring at the ringing phone, but she does look up and she says, “The phone's ringing.”

Normally, he would've said, “No shit,” with his shit-eating grin but now, Mickey just grunts half-heartedly and she knows she should probably be grateful that her brother finally stopped making snide remarks, but it just proves how much he's changed since that day and she's not entirely sure whether he's changed for the better.

“Still not talking to him, huh?” she says, dropping her chin into her palm as her gaze lingers on the dark circles under his dull blue eyes that haven't really gone away, no matter how much he says he's okay.

Mickey sighs, sliding off his chair in the kitchen to drop himself next to her on the lumpy couch. “Why should I?”

“Because he's trying to apologise,” she whines, turning to him with wide eyes and its not the first time she's tried to persuade him into talking to Ian, but it never works.

He just lets his eyebrows arch, an empty look passing over his pale face, then with a light scoff, he mutters, “Nothing to be sorry for. He can do whatever the fuck he wants.”

Fighting the urge to groan, she says, “He was manic, Mick. He didn't know what he was doing. You know he'd never do something like that if he was thinking straight.”

Mickey laughs emptily and he shakes his head lightly as his tongue runs over his bottom lip and he narrows his eyes at her, replying, “I haven't been thinking straight my whole life but I'd never do that to him. _Never._ ”

Mandy gulps, an uneasy feeling creeping up her neck at her brother's cool gaze and she knows she shouldn't play this card, but she has no other choice, and she whispers, “He's sick, Mickey.”

“You think I don't know that? I fucking know that!” Mickey suddenly yells, getting up from his seat to kick at the coffee table and Mandy yelps, the sudden movement making her stomach lurch. She knows Mickey could get violent, she's seen it a hundred times before, but its never been directed at her, so she looks up at him with wide eyes full of fear and he immediately feels guilt swallow him, forcing himself to calm the fuck down before he loses his shit.

He huffs, then sinks back into the couch, burying his face in his hands as he mumbles a sorry to Mandy, not sure if she can hear him, but he can't find the energy to care. Then, he feels her head on his shoulder and he hears her sigh and he knows she's tired of trying to get him to, at the very least, pick up Ian's calls and he knows he's being a pain in the ass, but how could he not? Ian fucking betrayed him. All he ever did was give Ian unconditional love and what did he get in return? 600 bucks and the horrifying mental image of Ian whoring himself out on film with some disgusting porn star.

He knows he made a pretty big fucking decision when he refused to let Fiona take Ian to the hospital, when he said he could take care of Ian himself. And so far, it was working out alright, a few bumps here and there, but they were good. Until Ian started losing his shit. First it was all the sex, and at the start, he didn't really mind that bit, but even he has to admit, it was getting out of hand. Then, it was the suitcases, all the goddamn suitcases that were bound to land them in a shitload of trouble. And then there was the fucking porno, the thing that started this whole fucking mess and it was then that it hit him that maybe he fucked up, maybe he should've let Ian get help, maybe he couldn't deal with Ian's shit as well as he thought he could and that's when he told Ian to get out.

He thought he was doing the right thing, making Ian leave, forcing him to go back home to the people who actually knew what the fuck they were dealing with, but he didn't realise that in the process, he was breaking his promise to take care of Ian, to help him get better and its that sickening thought that's keeping him from answering the phone. He didn't really give a fuck about the sex craze or the suitcases or even the damn porno, if he's being honest. He got over all that shit pretty quickly because he knows that it all came down to Ian being sick, which wasn't his fault at all. But the idea of not being able to help him, the thought that maybe Mickey was the reason he was getting worse, that's the real fucking problem. But, well, he's still Mickey and he still gives a shit about not showing too many fucking feelings, so its easier to pretend that he's only pissed about the porno and all the other pointless bullshit, but its more than that and he wonders if Ian can tell that its more than that or if he just sees whatever Mickey wants him to see, what Mickey wants everyone to see.

But its Ian and he's probably the only one who's ever really _seen_ Mickey, who Mickey truly is, underneath all that grit and that tough guy shit, he's seen Mickey at his best and he's been there when Mickey was at his lowest, and its safe to say that he can practically see through Mickey, through all his lies and his attempts to hide the fact that he actually has a heart. And he knows that Mickey couldn't possibly be mad at him for what he did because a stupid porno was nothing compared to all the bad shit they went through, so he thinks there's something else going on but he can't figure out what it is because Mickey won't pick up his fucking calls and he's tired of waiting around the phone like a little bitch, praying that maybe Mickey would call him back, but its Mickey and Mickey's too goddamn stubborn to do that.

So when he's finally sick of laying low in hopes that Mickey would reach out to him and he's had enough of everyone else telling him to just man the fuck up and go and talk to Mickey, he finds himself crouching behind the trash bins opposite the Milkovich house, feeling deja vu wash over him as he remembers being in that exact same spot a few years ago, with a stupid plan to attack the Milkovich brothers with a fucking baseball bat. He almost rolls his eyes at how dumb he was, then he straightens up, shaking out his long limbs before crossing the street and standing outside the front door for what seems to be at least a million years, but really, its only been a few minutes because the door suddenly swings open and a hand grabs the front of his shirt and he hears Mandy saying, “You've been out there for 10 minutes, you idiot. Just fucking get in here already!”

He lets out a choking noise as Mandy yanks him through the door, wondering how she even knew he was there, but then again, its Mandy, so he doesn't even bother asking, he just lets himself be dragged in by his best friend, straight into the living room, where she practically shoves him towards the couch where Mickey is sat, eyes wide and skin pale.

“Um,” Ian starts to say, gulping way too loudly in the quiet space and he shifts his balance from one leg to the other. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Mickey says back, grunting a little and he hopes that Ian can't hear his heart racing in his ribcage because Ian looks just as bad as he does and it kinda fucking hurts to see him like that and is it bad for him to think that the whole ‘haven't slept in a hundred years’ thing looks pretty damn good on Ian?

The tension in the air between them is so goddamn obvious, making them both wonder why the fuck this is happening right now, because neither of them were really prepared for the hurricane that they knew was about to come, then both their heads turn to face Mandy, who stares back at them innocently, the devious little bitch she is.

“You two needed to sort your shit out and neither of you were gonna fucking do it on your own, so-” is what she says, throwing her skinny arms up at the two boys, then she gives them one last look before leaving them to themselves, because they've been through some pretty hellish fights and the making up part that comes after it isn't something that she wants to see.

With nowhere else to focus his gaze, Mickey is forced to face Ian, a grimace on his face. “What are you doing here?” His voice comes out gruff, cracking slightly and he hopes that Ian doesn't notice.

“Came to talk to you," Ian replies, his own voice barely a whisper as he tries his best to keep himself calm.

Mickey scoffs, a small smirk tugging at his lips and not in a good way. Its the kind of smirk that makes Ian's insides squirm because he knows that there's poison on the tip Mickey's tongue, on the brink of letting loose the kind of words that could cut him deep.

“We're not good at talking,” Mickey states blankly, eyebrows arched almost perfectly. “We try to talk, then we fight and we fuck, then we fight _again_ and we fuck _again_ , and on and on and on.”

Ian ignores the sudden rush of blood to his crotch at the sound of Mickey saying ‘we fuck’, clearing his throat loudly and he begins to move closer to Mickey, a pointed look on his own face as he says, “How about we try talking again and we skip the fighting and go straight to the fucking part?”

A low chuckle escapes Mickey's throat at that, then his thumb comes up to rub at his bottom lip, then he asks, “Who says we'll want to fuck after all the shit we fucking talk about?”

Ian hesitates for a while, knowing that he was taking a huge risk playing the seduction angle with Mickey because it could either work out just the way he wants it to, or it could go straight to hell. But he figures its all gonna get messed up either way, so he puts on the sexiest fucking grin he can conjure up, advancing on Mickey before he could move away, steering them to the edge of the room until Mickey's back hits the wall with a thud. One of Ian's hands immediately grips Mickey's crotch – which is just as hard as Ian's expected it to be – and his other hand latches onto Mickey's wrist, tugging it forward and pressing Mickey's palm to his own groin, slighting grinding his erection onto Mickey's hand.

“These little guys say so,” Ian breaths out, voice croaky and rugged, just the way Mickey likes it and Ian can tell that he still does because his cock twitches in Ian's grip. 

Mickey knows exactly what Ian's doing. Trying to entice him, to work his way under Mickey's skin through sex, to distract him through temptation. But two can play at that game, Mickey thinks to himself as he narrows his eyes, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He gives Ian's hard-on a firm squeeze, making Ian gasp at the sudden contact, then he says, “There's nothing little about them, firecrotch.”

Ian quickly pulls himself together, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline flow through his veins and he lifts his hand from Mickey's groin to place it on his hip instead, his fingertips pressing circles into Mickey's skin.

“So, big guy,” Ian breathes out, leaning down to graze his lips on Mickey's stubbled chin, wondering if he's the reason why Mickey hasn't shaved in the past few days. “Wanna tell me why the fuck you threw me out of the house like trash?”

Mickey's eyes flutter a little when he feels Ian's lips press into the place where his jaw and his neck meet, knowing that if Ian kept going at this pace, he might as well just give up the tough front now, but he's a goddamn hardass and Ian knows it. So its not a surprise when he nudges his hand against Ian's shoulder, making Ian's head lift from where he was sucking on Mickey's skin, and he growls, “You made a porno and you expect me to be o-fucking-kay with that?”

“You married a prostitute that you fucked right in front of my eyes,” Ian shoots back, leaning forward again towards Mickey, his hands pinning him to the wall to keep him there, earning a small grunt from the guy. “You don't hear me complaining about it.”

Mickey's eyes narrow at that, his stare almost deathly, but Ian just mirrors his expression, equally as fired up. How could Ian possibly compare _that_ to with what was happening now? _That_ was out of his hands. _That_ wasn't his fault.

_And all this isn't Ian's fault either._

“She was knocked up, alright? The kid needed a dad,” Mickey replies, biting back some of the venom that usually came with talking about that incident, because he's grown pretty fucking fond of the kid and he can't really say anything bad about him without feeling like an asshole.

Ian licks his lips, eyebrows rising as he says, “We were broke. The kid needed money.”

“Its different,” Mickey says, shaking his head, his voice cracking a little. “I had to. You didn't- _Fuck._ ” He blinks back the tears that are starting to form in his eyes and his head falls onto Ian's shoulder, but he's tired, too fucking tired to care, but then he remembers why this is happening in the first place and he realises he does fucking care. He cares so much and its ruining him. Its ruining both of them.

So he sucks it up and gets his shit together, shoving Ian off a little too roughly and he shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he says, “You need to go. This was a mistake.”

Ian gulps, shaking his head as he stares at Mickey, who won't even fucking look at him. “You can't do this to me again,” he says, choking slightly on his words.

Mickey opens his eyes and immediately regrets it because Ian is staring at him with that same look on his face that he had when Mickey said they were done after Frank caught them, and when Mickey said he was still going through with the wedding, and when Mickey told him to leave Yevgeny's baptising party, and when Mickey told him to pack his shit a week ago.

He sees hurt and pain and sadness, all rolled up into one huge fucking mess and he realises, _shit_ , he just screwed up again and now he really needs to get Ian out of here, away from all the bad shit that comes with Mickey and hope that maybe he'll get better once he's far, far away from Mickey.

“I'm serious, Ian, you gotta leave,” Mickey pleads, wanting to just push him out of the door but he knows if his hands touch Ian, he'll just let his guard down again. “Just fucking go before someone gets hurt, alright?”

Ian scoffs at that, his head still shaking. “So, now you wanna fight? Is that the only way you know how to deal with your problems?”

“Hey, hey,” Mickey says, holding a hand out and he's immediately reminded of that time before his wedding, remembering just how hot Ian could get when he was pissed off, but now's not the time for that.

Ian just scowls back at him, taunting, “Well, come on then, tough guy. Fucking hit me.”

Mickey lunges at him, and for a second, Ian almost freaks out because he didn't think Mickey would actually want to attack him, but Mickey's hand just grabs the front of Ian's shirt, pulling him down so that their eyes are level and its only then that Mickey really sees how banged up Ian looks and it makes his insides churn.

“Don't pull that shit with me, man,” Mickey snaps, his blue eyes darkening. Then, they soften, his fingers loosening their grip on Ian's shirt, smoothing the wrinkled fabric down before moving up to curl around Ian's cheek. “I don't wanna fight you. I don't wanna hurt you, not anymore.” Ian almost smiles, but his grin immediately falls when Mickey says, “Which is why you have get out of here now.”

“No, no,” Ian says, his voice heavy and breaking as he presses his face into Mickey's hand. “You can't just- No, Mick, I won't let you do this again. No fucking way.” His tone raises as his hand comes up to hover over Mickey's, his long fingers pale and ghostly, but not touching Mickey's skin, as if he's afraid it might burn. “I'm not going anywhere, you hear me? I'm staying–”

“You can't!” Mickey suddenly yells, the dark flames in his eyes lighting up again as blood flares up his neck. He lets go of Ian, turning away so Ian can't see him bite down on his lip to stop himself from sobbing. “You gotta go home to your fucking family.”

Ian frowns at that, approaching Mickey and he notices Mickey's back tense up as he comes closer, so he stops himself from pulling Mickey's small frame into his arms. Instead, he just says, “This is my home. You are my family.” Then, he puts his hands on Mickey's shoulders, spinning his body to face him. “Don't you get that? You're my home.”

“I can't–” Mickey chokes a little on his own words, the weight of all the sleep he's lost in the past week finally dawning on him, his head dropping weakly to Ian's chest. “I can't give you the help that you need.”

Ian almost laughs at that, looking at Mickey with an odd expression. “Mick, I don't need any help. Jesus, I'm fine.”

Mickey's head snaps up, eyes narrowed into slits and he immediately grabs the back of Ian's neck, twisting it to force him to face the nearest mirror, where they're both staring at their reflections, dark circles and pale skin and just purely fucking horrible, to be frank.

“ _Fine?_ ” Mickey repeats, an icy tone to his sharp voice. “Does this look fucking fine to you? Jesus, look at you! You're a fucking mess, man! And its all because of me.”

Ian stares back at himself and now that he has nowhere else to look, he's forced to actually see himself and he'd be lying if he said he looked okay, because he really fucking didn't. Neither of them did. But, he doesn't get how it could possibly be Mickey's fault in any way at all. If there's anyone to blame, it's himself.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ian says, turning to Mickey because he can't stomach the sight of his sickly face anymore. “You didn't do anything, Mickey.”

“I didn't–” Mickey laughs a little, but its empty and hollow and Ian thinks his yelling would've sounded better than that sorry excuse for a laugh. “Are you fucking serious? I did _everything_! _I_ made you leave town, _I_ made you come back, _I_ made you stay here with me because I was too fucking scared to let them lock you up in a psych ward, and look where the fuck that's gotten us.”

Ian lets out a heavy breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Look, _I_ did all that shit. _I_ chose to leave, and yeah, you brought me back but _I_ chose to stay, and for fuck's sake, I told you, I don't need to go anywhere. I'm good. I just need to stay here,  with you.” Ian puts his hands on the sides of Mickey's face, training his gaze directly onto Mickey's bright blue eyes. “Please let me stay here. That's all I want.”

Mickey remembers looking into those same eyes that very first time they fucked and every other time after that. And holy fuck, they still make his insides melt and his heart beat a little faster and he can't find any way in the world to refuse Ian, no matter how much every single nerve in his body is screaming at him to say no. But, he can't let Ian go on this way, can't let him keep fucking himself up.

So he slides his tongue over his bottom lip, sucking in a long breath before saying, “When I told Fiona that you were staying with me, that I was taking care of you, I promised myself I'd never hurt you, and I did–”

“No, you–”

“Ian, shut the fuck up and listen to me,” he snaps, clenching his jaw. “I don't care what the fuck you have to say about it, I know I hurt you when I told you to leave and I'm fucking sorry. I screwed up and now, you gotta let me fix it. Look, I want you to stay here–”

Ian tries to stifle his gasp, but the way his face lights up is far too hard to cover up, his grin almost blinding as he says, “I can come home?”

Mickey lets out a small chuckle, rolling his eyes a little at the guy, saying, “Yeah, you can come home. Shit, man, I missed you. But–”

“That doesn't sound good,” Ian mutters, squirming uncomfortably under Mickey's heavy gaze.

“Let me fuckin' finish for once,” Mickey grumbles, shooting a dirty look at Ian. “You gotta do something for me, okay?” Ian looks at him expectantly, shrugging his shoulders to urge him on. “You gotta let me take you to a doctor.”

Ian scoffs immediately, throwing a look of disgust at Mickey, shaking his head. “No. Fuck you. I don't need a doctor.” Ian doesn't get why everybody is so goddamn insistent on making him see a doctor. He's fine. Great, in fact. He's got Mickey. But now, Mickey's trying to get him to a doctor too. No fucking way.

“No, hear me out, man,” Mickey pleads, holding his hands out to calm Ian down. “You just gotta go for a checkup. Just one of those lame ass doctors at those shitty clinics who don't even know what the fuck they're doing. If you want, I'll get myself checked too because we both know there's gotta be something fucked up here.”

Ian smiles a little at that, because he knows there's nothing wrong with Mickey. Mickey's the most perfect human being he's ever known and fuck, if going for a tiny little checkup meant that he made Mickey happy, then to hell with it. He owes Mickey that much. So, he lets his small smile grow into a full grin, nodding, saying, “If that's what you want, I'll do it.”

“Yeah?” Mickey asks, feeling a sense of relief wash over him.

“Yeah.”

Mickey's face breaks out into a grin, his arms pulling Ian down to hug him close, letting Ian press his head into the side of his neck as he mumbles, “Good. That's good. We're good.” And he really fucking hopes Ian goes through with it because he doesn't think he could ever go through this whole thing again. All he wants is for Ian to get better and he's gonna do everything he fucking can to make that happen and Jesus, he really has missed Ian and there's no way he's ever letting Ian go again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment & kudos! I love feedback!
> 
> @scttmccll on twitter if you want to talk :)


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